The men shall fight; it is God who gives the victory." Another rough questioner amongst her judges sought to confuse her by asking what language her voices spoke.

They say that a flash flew from her eyes, though her sweet voice was as gentle as ever as she made answer: "A better language than yours, my father." And again, when the same man sought to know more of her faith and her love of God, having shown himself very sceptical of her voices and visions, she answered him, with grave dignity and an earnest, steadfast gaze: "I trow I have a better faith than yours, my father." And so, through all, her courage never failed, her faith never faltered, her hope shone undimmed.
"They must give me that which I ask; they cannot withstand God.
They cannot hurt me.

For this work was I born, and until it be accomplished I am safe.

I have no fear." Only once did she show anger, and then it was with a quiet dignity of displeasure, far removed from petulance or impatience.

They asked of her a sign that she was what she professed to be.
"I have not come to Poictiers to give a sign," she answered, holding her head high, and looking fearlessly into the faces of those who sat to judge her.